


Confess Me a Graveyard

by nuricurry



Category: Devilman (Anime & Manga), Devilman Crybaby - Fandom
Genre: Blood, Choking, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Sexual Violence, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-18
Updated: 2018-01-18
Packaged: 2019-03-06 07:43:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13406628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nuricurry/pseuds/nuricurry
Summary: Everything is ending. That was the plan all along. He always wanted Akira to be beside him when it fell apart, and now, it looks as if he gets his wish.





	Confess Me a Graveyard

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gravy_tape](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gravy_tape/gifts).



> Spoilers for the end of Devilman/Devilman Crybaby. Violent and graphic. I am doubling down on my warnings just in case.

“It’s just you and I at the end of the world,” he says, with a lightness in his voice that speaks to his satisfaction, his approval, of such current circumstances.  
  
In direct contrast to him, as always, Akira scowls, and hisses, “And who’s fault is that?”  
  
He lifts his hands, and gives an unashamed, flippant shrug of his shoulders. “What does that matter?” he asks in return, “I told you, it didn’t have to be this way. If you had only just listened to me the first time--”  
  
There isn’t an opportunity to finish that sentence, before Akira is on top of him. Pain spreads from his shoulders where sharp claws have dug in, his back and wings ache from being scraped against the rough earth. There’s a heavy weight above him, hot breath in his face, and as soon as he’s able to focus his gaze on Akira’s face, there’s suddenly a fist coming at his own. The blow connects easily; he wasn’t anticipating such a primitive retaliation. Though, it doesn’t surprise him; nothing about Akira surprises him anymore. His anger, his violence, his desperation, all of it is things he expected to see from him.  
  
It’s things that he purposefully desired to draw out of him.  
  
Blood pools on his mouth and trickles down his cheeks and chin, spreading from his nose. Hot and metallic and wet, it feels sticky on his skin, but he doesn’t mind it at all. Rather, his smile returns, after it’s brief disappearance after Akira forced him down, and he doesn’t stop the laughter that bubbles out of his throat.  
  
“Shut up!” Akira shouts, voice raw and frustrated, “Stop it! Just stop! Why did you do this?! Why did you do any of this?!”  
  
That manages to quiet Ryo for a moment, his laughter dying, and his head tilting faintly to one side. “Because, that is how things are meant to be,” he explains simply, not understanding why this is such a hard concept for the other to grasp, “It’s nature. The weak are destroyed, devoured, and humans, they’re weak. They’re suspicious and selfish, full of nothing but hatred and violence. It is only fair that the superior species cuts them out.”  
  
His answer only seems to make Akira angrier. Again, those claws are digging into flesh, and he’s pulled up, only to be slammed back down onto the rubbled remains of the planet, and blood springs from his shoulders now too, scratches and holes torn into his skin.  
  
At the pain, he feels his body react, flinching briefly, before the sting fades, and is overcome with something else, something warmer, and tingling, something that seems to course through his veins with each pump of his heart within his chest. “Akira,” he says, and looks up at him, the golden burning embers of his eyes locking with his own, “Akira.”  
  
It’s his turn now to reach out for him, and as his hands find his chest, it looks as if Akira might yank away, and so Ryo is the one who digs his nails in next. His fingers find purchase in his sides, and he claws his way in, grasping onto him so tight that his knuckles go white with the strength of his grip. Then, it’s his legs that move, kicking up from the ground to hook around Akira’s waist, and he cinches them there, attaching himself to Akira with all of his limbs. Akira pulls, but he clings on, and as he tightens the way his legs encircle the other’s waist, it draws their hips closer together. In that movement, his groin brushes with Akira’s, and he knows that he is able to feel how his cock has gone hard, in spite of the violence inflicted upon him. Or, rather, more accurately, because of it.  
  
“Akira.”  
  
It’s like water thrown into a hot pan, the change as sudden as water boiling into steam. When he bucks against him, Akira’s body responds, and he is no longer the only one aroused. He knows how much that bothers Akira, how much he hates how his body now wants this, despite how little his head and his heart might agree. But, agreement between those things hardly matters in the moment. Ryo only needs to hear him to answer one thing: “Don’t you want me, Akira?”  
  
The answer is simple. The last syllable is barely past his lips before Akira’s body is fully on top of his, hard and forceful and rough, pushing him into the dirt with one hand on his throat, and the other gripping one of his breasts.  
  
“Fuck you, Ryo,” he growls at him, as his hips thrust against his own, their cocks trapped between their bodies, stimulated by the friction, “God, just… Fuck you.”  
  
“Yes,” he nods, even as he chokes on blood and his lack of oxygen, “Fuck me, Akira.”  
  
He laughs at his own joke as Akira’s eyes narrow in anger, and his throat is squeezed and his head pushed hard against rock. That doesn’t deter him though; this is what he wanted, after all. This is what he has been asking for, for so long.  
  
It isn’t soft. It isn’t slow, and romantic, and tender. It’s rough, it’s bloody and violent, and all too fast. It hurts, and that’s exactly what he wants. Akira forces himself inside of him without any warning, no illusion of consideration or gentleness. He bites and claws, leaving Ryo’s neck and breasts and shoulders slick with blood and littered with marks, most deep, and all painful. He pulls on his hair, he curses at him, he treats him as if he hates him, and Ryo accepts it all, without a moment of broken stride.  
  
In turn, he does much the same. Akira has gouges down his back from where his nails dug in, feathers from his wings with their sharp edges had cut into Akira’s own, as well as his legs and face and anywhere they could reach, all while Ryo taunted him, in between demands for more.  
  
The act feels as if it’s over too quickly. Without any warning, Akira suddenly pushes even harder inside of him, and he feels his ears ringing as everything comes crashing down around him, stunning him, and forcing him to lose his breath. Everything in his vision is white for a moment, before the fog clears, and reality returns, along with the sight of Akira gasping and panting above him.  
  
Like a clock striking midnight, the spell is broken, and Akira begins to pull away from him, but Ryo does not let him go. Instead, he forces him to stay where he is even more insistently, saying gruffly, “You can never leave me, Akira.”  
  
Beat after beat of silence elapses between them, without either venturing to say anything. Then, quietly, Akira’s hoarse voice speaks up. “What you said earlier...Did you mean it?” Ryo blinks at him, trying to piece together what instance he is referring to, and so Akira continues. “If that’s true…” Akira isn’t looking at him, his head bowed too low for their eyes to properly meet. Ryo wants him to lift his head up, he wants to see him, he wants to look into his face. “...If that’s true, then why? Why do this to me?”  
  
“Oh,” he says, and blinks, and smiles, “Because, you had to be here with me, through everything. This way, I knew you would.”  
  
It’s a deep, guttural roar, though the sound is more akin to a scream, that rips out of Akira’s body. His nails dig in his head is thrown back, and he howls, pained and frustrated and desperate, all things that Ryo can’t understand, and is bothered to see. “Akira,” he says, “Why can’t you understand?”  
  
Akira yanks himself away, forcing himself free of any of Ryo’s remaining hold, and then, attacks him once again.  
  
  
  
The next time they’re both lying on the ground, Ryo looks over, to see lines of tears trailing from Akira’s eyes. He doesn’t answer when he asks why he’s crying, and as he looks up at the sky, he is greeted by a limitless expanse of stars.  
  
It’s just him, alone at the end of the world.


End file.
